


soft serve

by miamihorror



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ice Cream Parlor AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 16:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1824907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miamihorror/pseuds/miamihorror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scooping ice cream of different flavours into a cup or waffle cone of varying size isn’t exactly what Kuroo was expecting to be doing at any point in his life, even as a part-time job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	soft serve

**Author's Note:**

> this is my very first fic for anything, and of course it just so happens to be kurodai [loud sweating]  
> this idea's been hanging around my head for a while so i figured i'd go and give it a shot! thanks in advance for reading.

Working every weekend from noon to 4:45 p.m. and the occasional 5:30 p.m. wasn’t worth it, or that’s what Kuroo Tetsurou tries to convince himself as he enters the ice cream parlor through the back.

 

Scooping ice cream of different flavours into a cup or waffle cone of varying size isn’t exactly what Kuroo was expecting to be doing at any point in his life, even as a part-time job. But he found the pay to be reasonable and his coworkers were easy to get along with. The work hours were flexible too, which meant more time for volleyball before and after his shifts.

 

He pulls the door to the empty change room open with a yawn and grabs his uniform from his sports bag, mingling with his sweaty practice clothes. They’re wrinkled from being stuffed hastily, and he just knows that he’s going to get yet another lecture from his boss about _“presenting yourself to the customers in a professional manner”_ sooner or later, but he changes into the white button up and black pants without a second thought. Attempting to blink away the fatigue, he heads down to the front counter of the shop as he ties the store’s red apron around his waist and fixes the matching clip-on bow tie under his shirt collar.

 

“Yo,” he greets his coworker at the counter, loosening his choking bow tie. He looks around the store, the same peach and mint green walls greeting him each time. A few tables and booths were occupied by mothers and their children, some by teens coming from school to enjoy their cold treat. “Not a lot of people today, huh?”

 

Kenma, his aloof and only present coworker, turns his head and acknowledges his presence with a small nod. “I guess so,” he replies blandly. “But at least it’s quiet.”

 

Truth be told, Kuroo likes the noise. Something about the background noise of the different pitches in voice, along with the constant whir of the ceiling fan and the hum of the freezer, helps him keep his focus and even convinces him to think that work is _fun_. He doesn’t mind the parlor being quiet once in a while – he can bask in his own thoughts and constant daydreams then. (Not that he had a lot to think about in the first place.) Kenma also seems to be calmer when there aren’t a lot of customers, which is a bonus. A panicking Kenma is the last thing he needs.

 

Kenma walks past him into the back room where the freezer was, claiming that the last of the rocky road ice cream had been finished up, and that he was going to get another tub to replace it. Kuroo waves him away half-heartedly and tells him that he’ll take over the counter. He isn’t expecting any customers to come in the span of time that Kenma is gone, so he settles in by sitting on the stool behind the tubs of ice cream, illuminated by fluorescent light coming from miniature bulbs, and blows his fringe out of his right eye.

 

The bell above the store’s front entrance jingles and Kuroo smothers a groan behind his teeth. Of course his hunches just _had_ to be wrong. He turns his head in the direction of the double glass doors to see a young man wearing a black hoodie and jeans, most likely a college student Kuroo concludes, entering the parlor. 

 

“Welcome!” he greets him in a syrupy voice, the persuasion hidden behind sweetness. It was the same one he used when flirting with girls (and admittedly some guys), but it worked well enough on people who wanted ice cream. “What can I get ya?”

 

The man standing behind the counter looks up at the menu above Kuroo’s head and hums in thought. Kuroo reflexively grabs a scooper in anticipation of the man’s order, but his customer seemed to be in deep thought about which flavour to order.

 

 _Please don’t let him be the kind of customer that takes forever to order and ends up getting something simple,_ Kuroo internally pleads.  _I’m begging all the existing deities out there. And also on Kenma’s next paycheck. Please._

He certainly didn’t fit the “on-the-fence” image with the way he held himself up confidently and without hesitation, as if he were fully capable of making any decision no matter the situation. Hands comfortably stuffed into the pockets of his sweater, the man’s eyes moved left and right behind the lenses of his glasses, shifting his weight from one leg to another. Kuroo observes the hypnotizing way his calves seem to flex when he did so.

 

_Ordering shouldn’t take this long. No matter how attractive you may seem._

 

“So, you see anything you like?” Kuroo starts, looking at the customer from his beneath his lashes. He could play with this guy for a bit, his shift _did_ just start. “Besides me, I mean.” 

  


Kuroo notes the almost immediate way the man across from him averts his eyes, bringing his hand up to hide his face. The tips of his ears start to match the colour of his apron, and he almost finds it adorable.

 

“Relax,” he chuckles, smooth and easy. “I wasn’t actually serious.”

 

_Well. Somewhat._

 

“I- um, yeah… I could tell,” the man manages. His eyes go back to the menu, looking in every direction besides Kuroo’s. His voice comes out somewhat choked, but Kuroo can hear the underlying tone of annoyance.

 

“If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to order now…” he scrutinizes the nametag pinned to Kuroo’s left breast pocket. “Kuroo-san.”

 

He ends up ordering the day’s special, mint chocolate chip, as well as bubblegum flavoured ice cream in a regular cup and Kuroo hands him his order with an exercised smile. After paying, he realizes that the customer has left him a small tip and glances up to thank him, only to see that the man has already exited the parlor. Kuroo’s eyes unconsciously follow him through the parlor’s window, noticing the name stitched onto the bottom half of his sweater.

 

_Sawamura, huh…_

Kenma returns with the ice cream tub and nudges him aside with it. “Stop staring out the window, you’ll scare the customers,” he says. When Kuroo doesn’t respond, he peers around him to check if he’s is still breathing.

 

“Kuroo?” he asks. “You’re still here for another four hours. Are you ok?”

 

“Yeah,” Kuroo swallows. “Just a customer.”

+

 

“So,” Kenma looks up from his DSi. He’s got some Pokémon game inserted and a riveting tune is playing quietly through the speakers of the game device. “Why are you always leaning over the counter as if you’re expecting someone?”

 

Kuroo turns from his position on the stool to face him, his expression morphing into one of disappointment. “Stop being so perceptive Kenma, people are going to hate you for that,” he tells him without any bite. “And no, I’m not expecting anyone. Shut up.”

 

Kenma gives away an eye roll, muttering “hopeless Kuroo” under his breath, and Kuroo resumes to his previous task of glancing out the parlor’s large window.

 

Ever since the Sawamura guy came into the parlor, Kuroo had been anticipating each and every one of his visits. He manages to drop by and order some ice cream during his shifts and Kuroo never fails to flirt with him, always resulting into Sawamura to blush and hide his face before giving him his order. On the rare occasion, he would grin at Kuroo and tell him to stop goofing off before he gets fired. He could say that they were on good terms, even friendly terms… only if he actually knew anything about Sawamura beyond his name.

 

That doesn’t stop Kuroo from finding him absolutely adorable.

 

On the other end of the spectrum, Kenma finds his pining for Sawamura absolutely repulsive.

 

“You know he’s not actually here to see you right,” Kenma points out. “He probably just really likes ice cream.”

 

“No one comes in here _just_ for the ice cream.”

 

“We work in an ice cream parlor. I’m pretty sure they do.”

 

Kuroo groans and lets his head fall onto the countertop, eyeing the white and blue-striped ice cream cups that need to be restocked. “I know, but you can’t blame me for trying,” he grumbles. “I’m a man who knows what he wants, and I want him.”

 

“Please don’t turn this into another one of your flings,” Kenma tells him indifferently. But after many hours in the parlor together tending to ice cream for minimum wage, Kuroo has learned to separate his concern from the monotone. “I’m really not up for another session of listening to you and your love life woes.”

 

Kuroo pokes his arm in rhythm with the game’s current song in silent thanks and Kenma swats his hand away with practiced motion, grimacing at him as if he were a pesky fruit fly.

 

Kenma’s game continues to beep in the background along with the parlor’s soft music, lulling Kuroo towards sleep. He’s got ten minutes left in his Sunday shift and he’s planning to spend the rest of the night in his apartment with a movie rental, Chinese take-out, and a cold six-pack. Not having been able to see Sawamura all day actually took an emotional toll on him.

 

_Chill. It’s cool. This is the perfect place to do that, it’s an ice cream parlor for fuck’s sake._

“Just go for it,” Kenma sighs, breaking him from his stupor. “I don’t see what’s holding you back.  He punches a few buttons and clicks his tongue when he sees that he’s down to his last Pokémon. “If you get rejected, then at least you told him how you feel. I think that’s better than nothing.”

 

Kuroo scoffs. “Who would ever reject _this?_ ”He boasts and spares him a cocky grin, gesturing to himself with his right hand.

 

“Anyone in the right mind.”

 

“…You blond brat.”

 

A victorious theme starts playing from Kenma’s DSi and he snaps it close, startling Kuroo and causing him to sit up military-straight on the stool. “I’m going to start cleaning up around the parlor," Kenma states. "Please stop daydreaming about a guy you don’t even know the name of. Also,” he pauses, completely unfazed by Kuroo’s misery. “Stop falling asleep on the job. Your drool is disgusting to clean up.”

 

“Okay _mom_ ,” Kuroo groans, raising his arms up in a stretch and cracking a few joints. “And I _do_ know his name, ok! It’s Sawamura! Sawamura!”

 

Kenma whacks his leg with the broom as he passes him, telling him to “shut your face, there’s trash coming out of it. I don’t want to have to clean that up too.” Kuroo sighs in half-fatigue, half-frustration and gets off his seat to check under the counter for extra ice cream cups.

 

The bell chimes overhead and Kuroo suppresses another sigh.

 

 _Of course._ Bless his stars, it’s a last minute customer. Just when he thinks he can spend the last few minutes of his shift in his own thoughts of Sawamura and his warm smile, and the way his eyes form into small crescents whenever he does, or how they would fall onto Kuroo himself and leaves him feeling like he could ascend – no.

_…Really went off gone off the deep end this time, huh._

 

“I’ll be right with you,” Kuroo huffs impatiently from underneath the ice cream tubs. “In the meantime, please choose what you want to order.”

 

“Actually,” he hears the voice call out. “I already know what I want.”

 

Kuroo’s ears catch on the familiar voice from behind the counter and any chance of him keeping his focus is thrown out the window. He gets up from his crouch in record time, hitting his head on the countertop in the process. Hissing softly, he clutches his injured head and lets out a watery smile.

 

“Hey,” Sawamura greets him, an easy smile on his face. “That was quite a hit.”

 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Kuroo replies back coolly. In all honestly, he wants to hide in the back room and ice his forming bruise.

 

_That was so uncool. What is he going to think, oh my god._

 

“So, what flavour are ya feelin’ today?” he asks in hopes of shifting the conversation off of his previous act. “Wait no, let me guess. You’re craving for some mint chocolate again. It’s cool and refreshing, just like me.”

 

Sawamura flashes him a grin, the kind where Kuroo can see how straight and white his teeth are, and he thinks that those shouldn’t even be possible for someone who eats so much ice cream. “Nice try Kuroo-kun,” he says. “But I’m actually in the mood for some sweet toffee today. In a small cone, please.”

 

“Dammit,” Kuroo grins in the middle of preparing his order. “Just when I thought I knew your tastes well enough.” He scoops a generous portion of the treat into a waffle cone, and hands it to Sawamura over the counter.

 

“Here you go,” he tells him. “One sweet toffee for the sweetheart.”

 

Sawamura scoffs, his cheeks dusted pink, and pays Kuroo for the treat. “Keep the change,” he says. “I don’t like carrying it around anyway.”

 

“If I knew any better,” Kuroo starts, inserting the coins through the slot of the tip container. “I’d think you actually pity me, the poor ice cream parlor man, for not having enough money." He smirks and meets Sawamura’s eyes, who arches an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

 

“Me? Pity you?” Sawamura gasps for the added dramatical effect, and the grin that Kuroo loves oh so much is back. He almost forgets to breathe with how tender and genuine it is.  “Oh yes, I’d definitely pity the guy that serves me ice cream on weekends. I most definitely do, Kuroo-kun,” he continues, taking a bite out of the cone and munching on it cheekily.

 

Kuroo flips him off playfully and starts wiping down the counter to occupy himself, his hands jittery and heart fluttering at the thought of Sawamura within a 3 feet radius of him.

 

_Best ten minutes of any shift ever._

 

He lifts his head to check if Kenma is not buried in some corner with his DSi, but he sees that Sawamura is watching him with careful eyes and they lock gazes once more.

 

There’s a message hidden behind Sawamura’s lenses that Kuroo can’t seem to decode, and he exhales unknowingly when Sawamura swallows, his expression foreign and unexplored.

 

 _“Just go for it,”_ Kenma’s previous advice rings in his head. _“If you get rejected, then at least you told him how you feel.”_

_It’s better than doing nothing._

How he’s planning to bring up to Sawamura that he wants to go on a date with him and possibly go on more, and hopefully be able to make out with him a little is beyond him.

 

“So,” Kuroo coughs, his heartbeat suddenly too loud in his own ears. “Is the ice cream to your liking?”

 

Sawamura blinks at him and proceeds to lick the ice cream that has suddenly dripped down his wrist and under his watch.

 

_Not helping._

“I like it enough… why? Is there something missing from it?”

 

Kuroo gulps. “Yeah, a topping. And you look like my favourite one.”

 

The ceiling fans whir overhead, buzzing in Kuroo’s ears, and he hears a distant slap. He figures it’s from Kenma smacking his own face with how _lame_ his approach was. Even the hum of the freezer seems to be pestering him. Sawamura freezes in the middle of his current task, his tongue still darting out to catch the melting ice cream, and Kuroo refrains from creating any tainting images of him possibly licking somewhere else.

 

_Holy shit that was not how it was supposed to go may the earth open up and swallow me now –_

He doesn’t expect Sawamura to double over in laughter, bubbling from his chest and out into the open, clutching his stomach and tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Melodic chimes on a hot summer afternoon, cheerful and bright, is what Kuroo is reminded of, and he brings a hand to hide the grin wide enough to make his cheeks hurt.

 

Sawamura’s sharing his grin, still allowing small bursts of laughter to escape him, and he’s taking short, deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

 

“O-Oh my _god,_ ” Sawamura manages. “Did you just drop an _ice cream_ line at me? I know you work at an ice cream parlor but…”

 

“Let’s actually not go there,” Kuroo says, evading the question. “You don’t want to know how many times I’ve actually tried that line and have it work. Besides,” he continues. “That really wasn’t what I wanted to say.”

 

“If that wasn’t it, then what did you want to say?”

 

Sawamura looks at him expectantly, almost longingly, and a sudden wave of courage overwhelms Kuroo.

 

_“I already know what I want.”_

 

Kuroo chuckles and rubs the back of his warm neck, the sensation new to his fingers. “My shift’s over in five, think you could wait?”

 

+

 

“That is _not_ how you – look see, there it is. Told you you’d choke on it.”

 

Sawamura pats his back soothingly while Kuroo is left trying to breathe oxygen into his lungs after choking on a peach-mango flavoured popsicle, shamelessly displaying his “awesome deep-throating skills” to Sawamura.

 

“I really didn’t need to know if you had a gag reflex or not, Kuroo-kun.”

 

“Who knows, maybe you can use that against me sometime.”

 

“Did you just – I’m not even going to ask.”

 

He and Sawamura had stopped by the corner store and bought a box of the frozen treats to share at the local park and playground, only a few blocks from his apartment building. The sun was starting to set over the hill, painting the sky in hues of red and orange. The clouds took on the colour of the peachy popsicles and the air was starting to chill over, seeping into Kuroo’s bones and expanding to his fingertips.

 

He takes a bite of his popsicle, letting the flavours spread around his palette and relishing the taste. After zipping through the jungle gym and settling down on the swings, Sawamura hadn’t brought up the subject of what he wanted to say back at the parlor. Kuroo had talked about his shift and he smiled at the right intervals, but he refrained from keeping eye contact. He seemed to be on the edge with the way he twisted the chains holding up the swings and turned incredibly jumpy whenever Kuroo bumped his swing with his.

 

Kuroo claps him on the shoulder. “Loosen up, Sawamura,” he says. “You look like I’m about to jump you or something.”

 

_That’s not exactly off the mark, though._

He counts the heartbeats that pass before he replies back.

 

“Daichi.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You can call me Daichi,” he repeats, and Kuroo notes the way his voices cracks slightly. “I don’t mind.”

 

“Already on a first name basis?” Kuroo clicks his tongue. “We haven’t even gone on a first date.”

 

Flashing him a cocky grin, Daichi rolls his eyes and punches his shoulder in mock anger. “Save it, Mr. I-drop-ice-cream-lines-at-customers.”

 

“Hey, low blow.”

 

They fall into comfortable silence, the constant creak of the chains under their weight accompanying the soft howl of the wind. Kuroo’s catches the way Daichi grips the chains like a lifeline, his knuckles milky white, and how he’s breathing like he’s been running a marathon.

 

“Well, Daichi,” Kuroo starts, incorporating the same syrupy tone he used on him the day they met. “I’d like it if you actually looked at me while we talk; you’re hurting my feelings here. I’m not that bad-looking, I assure you.”

 

Kuroo hears the shuddering breath Daichi takes before slowly turning his torso to face him, his eyebrows in a slight frown and lips in a pout. Gulping down his nervousness, Kuroo smirks.

 

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it.”

 

“Very funny, Kuroo.”

 

“Oh, suddenly got all casual on me, haven’t we? At least I know I’m on the right track to an actual first date.”

 

Daichi chews on the inside of his cheek meekly before taking another bite of his popsicle while simultaneously shoving one hand into his sweater pocket. He huffs indignantly and brings up his shoulders to prevent the cold from nipping at his ears.

 

_Unbelievably cute._

Kuroo returns his focus on finishing his own popsicle, stealing glances at Daichi from the side and eyes the way he takes small bites of the treat and wincing slightly at the chill of it coming in contact with his teeth. He smiles internally at the small frown Daichi’s face takes when he finishes and realizes that he hasn’t won anything, chucking it into the garbage bin beside them. Nearing the end of his own popsicle, Kuroo catches the tiny engraving on the wood and takes it out of his mouth to inspect the writing. His heart starts beating in eighth notes and he hands it over to Daichi without a word, who looks at him as if he’s grown cat ears.

 

“Just take it,” Kuroo tells him, eyes shut close in embarrassment. “Trust me on this one.”

 

Daichi tilts his head in confusion and squints at the inscription.

 

_Today is a good day to take risks! Try something new or confess to the one you like! Wonderful results will await your decision._

He blinks at him in befuddlement and looks up at Kuroo, who darts up from his swing and crouches in front of Daichi with a fixed stare.

 

“I don’t know if this counts,” Kuroo huffs quietly and takes in the way Daichi inhales sharply through his nose. He glances down at his parted lips, still shiny from eating the popsicle. “But you’re the risk I’m willing to take.”

 

Kuroo leans in to close the gap between them and Daichi meets him halfway, his eyes fluttering close and shifts his attention to the small moan Daichi makes behind his mouth. Taking it as his indication to go further, Kuroo licks at his bottom lip intently, appreciating the stickiness leftover by the popsicle, and shudders at the slide of Daichi’s tongue against his own. He tastes Daichi’s palette and feels those straight teeth for himself, savouring the chill of the popsicles they shared and Daichi’s own distinct flavour. Daichi’s fingers clutch at his bicep and Kuroo settles his hands on his hips, rubbing soothing circles into the fabric of his sweater.

 

Daichi pulls away with a quick inhale and it leaves Kuroo a little disappointed and wanting more, but his cheeks are pink and bright under the street lamp, and Kuroo might just be dreaming with the angel glowing in front of him.

 

“Please go out with me,” Kuroo breathes onto Daichi's lips. “I like you.”

 

If there was a time where he thought his heart might leap out from between his lungs and rip them with it, it would be at this moment with the way it’s beating so fast and constricts his breathing when Daichi nods without missing a beat.

 

“I think after that, you can already tell what my answer is.”

 

Kuroo presses a quick kiss to Daichi’s forehead, cupping his face afterwards to look him in the eye. “Thank you,” he tells him. “I think I’ve found my favourite flavour because of you,” he says, his tone smug.

 

Daichi jeers and pushes him away, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he catches his lip between his teeth. “D’you know,” Daichi says softly, “How long I’ve been hoping to do that with you?”

 

“Don’t worry,” Kuroo chuckles, low and comforting, and throws an arm around Daichi’s shoulders to pull him close. Daichi leans on the crook between his shoulder and neck, sighing contentedly. “We’ll have plenty of other chances to kiss, I guarantee it.”

 

“You still owe me for those popsicles, by the way.”

 

“I thought you said they were on you!”

 

Daichi lets out a heartwarming laugh and it reverberates in the depths of Kuroo’s chest, the promise of creating memories with Daichi stirring a pleasant feeling inside.

 

_We might just work._

+

 

Extra:

 

blond brat [22:09]

can u pls stop having ur dates @ d parlor

 

blond brat [22:09]

ive had enough of ur guys’ gross googly eyes @ each other

 

blond brat [22:09]

i dont need to see it even more now that u 2 r dating

 

blond brat [22:09]

also bc sawamura-san keeps finishing all the popular ice cream

 

blond brat [23:12]

wtf kuroo stop sending me after sex pics of u two

 

blond brat [23:12]

u trashy shit

 

blond brat [23:34]

i need a new coworker


End file.
